Live On
by pwoutagonist
Summary: Marco confessed and Jean is an idiot. Marco died and Jean can't forgive himself. Tears will follow.


**This drabble was inspired by the cover image. It looked extremely sad, so I thought a drabble would suit this picture well. I hope you enjoy!**

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It was an ordinary day really, as cliche as it sounds. Restless clouds floated in a sea of bright blue, drifting about without a location. The long blades of grass fluttered against one another as the wind swept through. Small leaves from the large oak tree gently sifted down to rest on top of warm cotton and warm skin.

"Jean." The teen turned his head from the sky to the freckled boy next to him. His hair gently fell to either side of his face, revealing his large forehead. Jean chuckled.

"Yeah?" The wind blew through more rapidly than before. Marco smiled.

"I love you, Jean." The wind stopped blowing. Jean blinked. The wind carried on again. A small rush of blood went to the teen's cheeks at the strange confession.

"Did you say something?" Marco chuckled, turning his head to reveal his fully freckled face to repeat the words he said earlier.

"I love you." Now, Jean was quite slow and quite stupid. The words that came from Marco's mouth and into his own ears did not process completely, and he lay there, head propped by an elbow, a blank expression on his face.

Jean let out a small laugh. "You're joking, right?" There was no way he could love him, right? They were both guys; that's disgusting…right_? _Marco stared at the other male, reading his expression. "Are you okay, Marco? Did you eat properly?" _Ah, that's how it is._ The freckled boy laughed.

"I'm fine." He laid on his back again, hands supporting his head as his eyes dreamed up at the sky. "It was just a joke." Marco lied easily, which put Jean at ease.

Oh, how the teen wishes he wasn't so dumb. The unfamiliar pang in his chest that wouldn't go away was a good sign of his stupidity. Seeing his friend's dead body was just too much. They were just friends…"I'm so fucking stupid." Jean cursed as he fell to his knees, looking up at the bright blue sky.

It was the same color as that day.

And as tears flowed from the soldier's eyes, drool and snot along with it, he couldn't help but feel like dying right then and there. "Marco…" He whispered the other's name, the pain not subsiding as memories of his friend flashing before his eyes. He just wished they would go slower so he could savor each one of them, relive it and wish he could change it. Perhaps, if he had realized his feelings sooner, he wouldn't feel so…guilty.

"Marco!" He shouted up at the sky, expecting an answer. Nothing but the sound of wind graced his ears. Truly he should receive divine punishment for this. Maybe, just maybe… "I love you too, you idiot." He whispered to himself, clenching his hands into fists.

Jean could have sworn, that in that moment, he felt the familiar touch of the freckled teen on his shoulders. "I'm hallucinating now?" Well surely it was better than feeling nothing at all. He curled into a ball, letting the ghost-like presence envelop around him. "I'm pathetic, aren't I? I couldn't understand your words back then, and now…it's too late." His body jolted from the sobs and cries, but the warm feeling on his back was still there. Jean didn't dare turn around. If Marco was there, he wouldn't be able to look in the eye. If no one was there, the pain would just be too great.

Slowly, his hand reached by his belt for his knife, bringing it out in front of his eyes. It was sharp, clean, and just one stroke could end it all. "Do I even deserve to go to heaven? That place is for heroes, not cowards." Oh did Jean contemplate sticking that blade right across his through. He thought about it so many times, but each time he did, he'd chicken out. He wasn't brave; wasn't brave like Marco. The soldier sacrificed himself for the greater good of humanity, and Jean couldn't for his friend.

"I'm a terrible person. Just…fuck! I can't take this! I want to die…please, just…somebody kill me. Without Marco, I…I…" There was a pool of tears on the ground now, and each second was becoming more and more painful. As the blade neared his throat for the last time, the warm presence was back.

_Don't._

"But I can't live anymore!"

_Yes, you can._

"I need Marco! I can't do this!"

_I believe in you._

"Don't say that…"

_You're strong._

"I'm not."

_And brave._

"All lies."

_You're a wonderful person._

"I'm terrible."

_You're beautiful._

"If only that were true."

_You're everything I aspired to be._

"It's a good thing you're not me. But maybe it would have been good. Maybe you would have been here by my side."

_I couldn't let you die._

"And you shouldn't let yourself die!"

_…Things happen. It's normal._

"You were so young!"

_I know, and so are you. Don't throw your life away._

"I would! For you I would…"

_If you stay alive, then I wouldn't have died in vain._

"Stop…"

_Humanity needs you._

"I need you…"

_And you will have me, when the time is right._

"…why do you resist us being together?"

_Because I love you._

"…fuck…saying those kinds of things…am I going to jerk off to a ghost?"

_I don't mind._

"Ugh, that's sick Marco."

_So are you._

"What do you see in me?"

_Everything._

"Care to be more specific?"

_Hope…faith…courage…strength…passion…_

"Are you sure it's me we're talking about?"

_Very sure. I love you._

"…love you too…"

_What was that?_

"You heard me, pervert!"

_Ha, you're really cute._

"Says the one with the freckles!"

_I'm…glad you like that part of me._

"That better be your hand and not a ghost boner I'm feeling."

_Jean, you should rest. You haven't slept in days._

"S'Okay. I don't need to sleep much."

_Please, rest._

"…" Almost letting his body move for him, Jean stood up slowly, walking inside to where his bed was. The warm presence on his back never disappeared, but Jean never once turned around. He opened the door, and closed it behind him. Subconsciously he left the door open for a tad longer as if giving enough time for Marco's ghost to slip inside. Jean made a beeline for the mattress, lying on his side so the warmth from the ghost never left. "I love you, Marco." There, he finally said it properly, and it felt like…a weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

The warmth disappeared from the room. Jean was fast asleep, finally content.

_Live on._


End file.
